Apocalypse: Hetalia
by Superstyle
Summary: In an apparently post-apocalyptic future, a group of young men must fight to survive. Together, they form a band of drifters, merchants, and bounty hunters, and together, they will face challenges, enemies, and find new friends and allies.
1. Prologue: Survive!

**Apocalypse: Hetalia  
**

**Prologue:**

** Survive!**

* * *

Run. Survive. These were the only things going through the mind of a lone silhouette, racing through the cold desert at night. The full moon shone down it's cool radiance across the dry wasteland, and gave the desert an eerie peacefulness and lonesome serenity. Rocky formations and buttes dotted the landscape, and it was among one of these that the darkened figure had set up a small shelter.

The figure was a young man, Toris Laurinaitis, barely beyond his teenage years, and he ran in a panic toward his shoddy little shelter amongst the great stone behemoths. Trailing behind him was what appeared to be another man, a little bigger, stronger, and... paler.

Suddenly, as he closed in on the younger man, the pursuer lunged forward at him and tackled him to the ground.

"Fuck! Shit, get the hell off of me!" Toris screamed, struggling with the larger man on the ground.

His enemy scrambled quickly to get a good hold on him, grabbing both his wrists and putting all of his two-hundred-plus pounds down on top of him. Toris tried muscling his way out of his grasp and tried knocking him off of himself, but to no avail.

Pushing Toris's arms down toward the ground, the man leaned his head closer to Toris's, and opened his inhumanly large mouth wide, baring horribly disfigured teeth and letting loose terrible breath into Toris's face. Toris winced in disgust temporarily before becoming truly frightened at the sight. The man's opened mouth was just a little larger than poor Toris's head.

Just as his stronger foe had overpowered him and forced both of his arms to the ground, the large, hideous man attempted to bite down into Toris's face. At that moment, a brief flash of memories entered into his mind, adrenaline rushed into his veins, and a primal will to survive flushed out all of his fear and emotions, and possessed him.

In a burst of great strength brought on by the adrenaline, he wrested his right wrist out of the other man's grip and pushed his right hand up-under his chin right before he could bite down. He then pushed with all his might with the same arm and threw the man off balance. At that, he easily pulled away his left arm from the man's weakened grasp and forced him off of himself, sending him back a few feet.

Immediately, he he rolled away and back onto his feet, and fled again. He was close to his shelter now, and as he came upon the side of the butte from which it was, he climbed up a pile of large rocks and boulders, and hid amongst them.

The large, monstrous man lumbered cautiously over to the shelter, which was made up of nothing more than a small half-tent made of a worn flannel blanket and a little, burnt-out campfire beside it. The man looked down into the tent, and took out an unfinished crossbow that Toris had been constructing to defend himself. Still inside the tent were several scraps of wood, string, and a knife that he used to carve the scraps into shape for the crossbow.

The man sniffed the crossbow, making loud snorts like an animal, and, apparently not knowing what to do with it, dropped it to the ground. He then returned to the inside of the tent, and observed the knife for only a second, not even picking it up. As the man searched through the shelter, Toris watched him from his hiding place amongst the rocks. Thankful that the man didn't take an interest in the knife, he quietly waited, in fear, for the man to decide he wasn't there and leave.

Quietly, the man lumbered near to the boulders that Toris hid near the top of. It was then that Toris fully acknowledged the large boulder resting next to him, free from the others, and recognized the chance he had.

The man wandered directly under the point where Toris was laying in watch. Toris quietly made his way behind the boulder, and, with his adrenaline rush residing, but still giving him strength and energy, he pushed the boulder forward with all the might that he could muster, and it fell over the edge and crushed the man below.

Toris looked down to see if he was successful, and saw the boulder resting just next to the man's crushed body. Toris observed the crushed left shoulder and head, and, convinced that he was dead, carefully made his way down from his perch.

As he got down from the perch, he picked up a large stone with both hands, and held it over the defeated man's already mostly-crushed head. He lifted the stone with both arms just over his head, preparing to strike, but hesitated. The killer instinct he had just moments ago, born from his will to survive, was suddenly gone.

"... I … why is this so hard now? After what I just did to him... why can't I..." mumbled Toris, regret and anxiety both in his voice.

He lowered the stone in his hands a bit, but the defeated, crushed man before him began to move his head to look straight at him. Toris stared into the man's dull, glazed-over pale gray eyes for only a second before raising the stone back up again.

" I must... survive!" exclaimed Toris as he slammed the stone down onto the man's head, crushing it almost completely and leaving a gaping opening in his skull.

Toris lifted the stone up again and slammed it down a second time, totally crushing the skull and brain inside. Blood splattered everywhere around the head and onto Toris, covering parts of his face and hair and staining his clothes with it.

Toris didn't lift the stone back up, instead deciding to leave it embedded into what remained of the skull. He stood back up straight, and looked from the dead man, to the surrounding desert around him.

The adrenaline rush was completely gone now, and along with it, the killer instinct. He trembled slightly, partly from exhaustion (which was only made worse from the adrenaline rush residing), partly from the fear he experienced, and partly from what he had just done.

Oh, he knew full well that the man he just killed wasn't really a man, and he knew that he was only fighting for his life, but... he couldn't seem to accept it. He didn't really know why, but he just couldn't. All he knew was that he felt... darker, and emptier.

He looked back down onto the corpse before him, and turned away in disgust, and over to where his incomplete crossbow lay. Picking it up and making sure that it wasn't damaged in any way, he decided to bundle up all of his things and continue on his journey. It only took him a few minutes to get everything together, as he didn't have many possessions.

Without looking back at the corpse, he set out towards the north-east, where he could only hope his destination was. Or at least, the destination that he wanted.

"Cydonia..." muttered Toris to himself, "my only hope."


	2. You're Gonna Carry That Weight

**Apocalypse: Hetalia**

**Chapter One:**

**You're Gonna Carry That Weight**

* * *

A pure blue sky, with no rips or tearing in it. It was the first time the sky had looked so perfect in a long time. The only problem was the unforgiving sun, throwing down it's hellish rays down to the earth, cooking and scorching anything and everything that stayed out in it for more than five minutes at a time. Well, most things, anyway.

Three dune buggies raced along the stretch of desert toward each other. They all slowed and pulled up close to each other in a circle.

"I thought there were suppose to be dunes out here. I was looking forward to pulling some stunts with this buggy," began Kyle Walters, a tall young man with slicked-back brown hair and green eyes. His was the only buggy with a passenger seat, and in it sat a fat little koala bear, snacking on eucalyptus leaves.

"Yea, I know, right? I was, like, totally going to get some sweet air off of some dunes, but I guess you can't trust the word of savages," added Alfred F. Jones, another tall young man with short blonde hair (with a wild strand) and blue eyes.

"Like you two would ever outdo me! I'm way too awesome with this buggy," replied Gilbert Beilschmidt, another man with platinum blonde hair and odd, reddish-violet eyes. The others figured that it was some sort of genetic mutation or something.

"Should you even be out in the sun, Gil?" asked Alfred, "You're paler than those damn zombies! You sure you're not an albino?"

Kyle burst out laughing. "Yea, you look like one of those 'royalty' types who spend all day indoors, not outdoors roughing it up with pioneers like me and Alfred!"

"How many times have I told you guys, I'm not albino! My skin is just... melanin challenged."

The two deeply-tanned men stared at their ghostly-in-comparison friend and let out hearty laughs.

"What you mean is, is that your skin is really sensitive. Like a woman's," grinned Alfred widely, amused at his possibly-sexist taunt.

"Ha! Yea, and his eyes look like a vampire's. Although that's actually pretty badass. Good on ya, mate," said Kyle, both taunting and complimenting Gilbert.

"Goddammit, just drop it alright?" huffed an annoyed Gilbert, "Let's just say if we found anything or not and get back to the others."

"Yea, alright, Casper," quipped Kyle, "I was out to the north of here and saw through my spyglass a huge caravan, farther north than I could go. They even had some cars, mate. Cars!"

Gilbert and Alfred's eyes lit up at the sound of the word. Cars meant gasoline and oil, both of which were rare and extremely valuable in this world.

"And better yet," Kyle continued with a grin, "there were merchants with them. Wagons filled with valuable stuff. One them was filled to the brim with liqueur. A bottle shop on wheels!"

"Was it guarded?" inquired Gilbert cautiously.

"Oh, yea, there were riflemen stationed around the perimeter of the whole thing, perched on the roofs of their wagons."

"Let's get back to the crew. We'll need to prepare for a raid today," said Alfred with a genuinely happy smile, "We're all gonna have a good meal tonight!"

With that, they all gave out shouts of joy and drove off to the east to meet up with their so-called "crew."

* * *

Meanwhile, Toris felt like he had just swam through a pool of sweat. He was covered in it from head to toe. It soaked into his socks and shoes and made his feet squeak with it every time he stepped down. And it was like this for the last hour.

The scorching sun burned against his normally palish skin, which was now mercilessly burned by the sun into red and pinkish tones. He stopped for a few seconds to take a drink from his second canteen, only to find that he only had a few drops of water left in it.

"What the... shit, I went through this one already..."

He squinted around at the hellish landscape, hoping to discover a beautiful, plentiful oasis that somehow managed to survive in this horrid desert, but he only found more vast stretches of the same deathtrap of a land. He knew he couldn't live much longer. He needed to find food and water, and fast.

"I would wish for more people..." spoke Toris to himself, "... but we all know how that turned out for me last time."

There was no one else there with him, but talking to himself had become a habit over the last week or two of living alone in a forsaken land. Or was it over the last three or four weeks? He didn't know, as he had lost track of time a long time ago.

And now, it looked like he would lose his life. No food, no water, no shade from the sun. If the hunger, thirst, and heat didn't kill him, the skin cancer that he would surely develop from his blistering sun burns would.

To make matters worse, a rattlesnake had appeared from nowhere and lay just out of his arm's length away from him, to his left. Or at least, to him it seemed to have appeared from nowhere. In reality, it was laying there for the last thirty seconds, rattling it's tail at him the whole time. But in his state, he didn't notice until now.

Staring at it for a moment, he looked straight into it's cunning eyes before jumping back away from it, just as it lunged forward to bite him. Narrowly escaping it's fangs, he gripped tightly onto his wooden spear, which he constructed a few days before, and thrust it down onto the snake's neck before it could strike again, cutting it's head off.

He then picked up the rest of the snake's body, and held it out in from of him, letting the blood drip out of the end where the head once was. Toris smiled weakly at his victory, and picked up the head. A grave mistake.

The snake head, although clearly severed, bit down into his left hand, and filled it with it's poison. Toris threw the head down and screamed in agony and panic.

"WHAT THE HELL!" he exclaimed with tears in his eyes, "THEY CAN STILL BITE AFTER BEING BEHEADED? FUUU-"

And with that, before he could finish, he passed out from the exhaustion he had been enduring for several days. However, hope had not yet faded.

Just minutes later, the rumbling sounds of dune buggies sounded through the area. In the distance came three buggies, and after passing by an unconscious Toris, they stopped, argued with each other about something for a moment, and turned around.

Gilbert was the first to pull up. He stepped out of the buggy and grabbed his shotgun, prepared to blow the unconscious man's head off if he turned out to be what Gilbert suspected. The other two pulled up in their buggies as Gil nudged the man's left hand with the end of his gun, noticing the snake bite.

"Damn, guys. Looks like he is just a normal guy. Or at least was. Check out his left hand, bitten by a snake. Damn fool must have been wandering alone. Dumbass..."

Gilbert pointed to the bite with his gun, showing the other two where it was. Kyle bent down to observe it.

"This is a fresh bite. He could have just been bitten less than ten, or fifteen minutes ago."

Kyle randomly looked around the immediate area, checking for both snakes and valuable items that Toris may have had. He noticed the severed rattlesnake head almost immediately.

"Crikey! A snakes head!" exclaimed Kyle with a surprising, but familiar, amount of enthusiasm.

"This guy must have chopped it off the body, and then picked it up. He really must have been a dumbass," Kyle speculated.

"No kidding. He's obviously dead, lets just check his belongings and see if he has anything good," replied Gilbert.

At that, Alfred spotted Toris's incomplete crossbow laying just a few feet away from them all, and picked it up.

"This guy was making a useful weapon for himself," he declared, looking it over, "He wasn't a total idiot afterall."

"You know, this guy is still alive," declared Kyle suddenly, holding Toris's limp wrist, checking for his heartbeat.

"Oh yea?" chimed Gilbert, "Well, if the bite is as fresh as you say, then it's entirely possible. But still, after wandering alone in this heat, and then getting bit... I'm surprised it's so. He must be pretty strong."

Kyle and Alfred observed Gilbert's vampire-skin and gave crooked grins. "Yes, well, not everyone has such a hard time with the sun's heat and rays as you do, Mr. Cullen," teased Alfred.

Gilbert, already pinkish from the heat, turned bright red with fury and stormed off to his buggy, where he rummaged through a few tools and pulled out a crowbar.

"I swear I'll beat you both with this crowbar if either of you piss me off again."

"I ain't afraid of no ghosts," quipped Alfred before being chased around by Gilbert, swinging his crowbar like a madman and kicking up dust everywhere. "Stop taunting me with old, outdated pop culture references!" cried Gilbert crazily.

As the two knuckleheads wrestled each other to the ground and started brawling, Kyle reached in his pocket and took out a poison-remover. The device had a cup-shaped end that, when placed over the bite and the surrounding area, would use suction to pull out both the blood and the venom. Kyle choked from the massive cloud of smoke hovering over the immediate area now, thanks to two "kids" duking it out.

"Oi, mates, I love a good tussle too, but I can't breath or concentrate with you two screwing around!"

Gil and Alfred stopped fighting and shook hands, both deciding that honor had been satisfied, and walked over to watch him remove the venom.

He placed the cupped-end over the bite and pushed the plunger-end in on the other side, pushing the skin and bite up into the tip. Immediately, blood came rushing out of the wound, and both Alfred and Gilbert freaked out.

"Shit, if he isn't dead now, he will be soon, drawing out his blood like that, you creepy-ass motherfucker!" screamed Gilbert.

"Calm down, mate. It's taking the venom out, too," assured Kyle.

Alfred coughed. "Er, right, right. I knew that," he lied, trying to regain his composure.

Kyle reapplied the extractor several times for for the next five minutes, always leaving it on for thirty-seconds at a time. Afterward, he cleaned it's tip and asked one of the others what to do.

"Well, I suppose that we could take him with us, and try to wake him up," Alfred thought aloud, "If he survives, he can join us. If he doesn't, we take his stuff. And if he survives but doesn't join us... again, we take his stuff. No matter what, it's a win for us," he explained further, without any shame towards that last part.

"Aye, solid plan, mate. Let's load him onto my buggy, as it's the only one with a passenger seat. I just hope my koala doesn't mistake him for dead and try to eat his body. He's done that before."

A little mortified by Kyle's revelation concerning his koala, Alfred and Gilbert both picked Toris up and carried him to Kyle's passenger seat, buckling him in and trying to stop the koala from taking a nice big bite out of the succulent human.

"No, Bindi!" roared Kyle as he struggled with the wily creature, "Crikey!"

After the little monster calmed down, the three set back out to meet with their crew. As they raced along the desert expanse, Kyle threw some water from his canteen onto Toris's face, but didn't get any more than incomprehensible mumbles from him. Bindi, the koala, took a nibble from his right ear, but still he didn't wake up.

* * *

Twenty or so minutes passed by, and they came up to a (relatively) small butte, and raced each other to the other side. They turned so sharply around the perimeter of the rocky giant that they nearly spun out in the loose gravel, but somehow they managed. As they approached the west side of the butte, the large congregation of people whom they helped lead came into view.

Various people were mounted on horseback. They sat upon half-starved horses and guarded the modest encampment with either guns or bows and arrows, whatever they had managed to acquire over the years. The majority of them were a clearly rough and battle-scared bunch, having seen and experienced much fighting and struggle. But it wasn't just tough men in the encampment. Dozens of women and children also lived there, going about their business, the children running around and playing in their dirty, unwashed clothes. In fact, all of the people were dirty and unwashed, and roughed up in some way.

The trio of ruffians with their dune buggies raced into the camp, all of them claiming victory in their race. They dragged Toris out of Kyle's buggy and splashed some foul, undrinkable water onto his face in an attempt to wake him up.

Some of the people gathered around the trio and their new, unconscious, and horribly sunburned friend. As they splashed more disgusting water on him, a little girl with a flower in her brown hair came running up to meet Kyle.

"Oi, who is this?" she asked the trio, referring to Toris. Kyle picked her up and kissed her on the forehead.

"Some bloke who went and got himself bitten by a little 'ole rattlesnake," Kyle explained to her, "Pretty goofy of him, huh Wy?"

She smiled widely. "Yea! Even I could handle that, I kill rattlesnakes all the time!" she exclaimed, holding out her little stone-head spear for all to see.

"Heh, yea, and then we cook and eat those tasty snakes. You really are the greatest hunter among us, little Wy," replied Kyle, grinning from ear to ear.

Gilbert and Alfred smiled at their friend and his daughter, as they continued splashing bad water onto Toris, not watching what they were doing. They didn't noticed that Toris had begun to wake up a while ago, and their constant splashing was both confusing to him and making it hard to breath.

"Hey! Ugh, what is going- agh! I can't breath!" shouted Toris with great effort in-between the constant dumping of water onto his face. Gilbert and Alfred stopped and looked at him with surprised and sorry looks on their faces.

"Oh, sorry!" exclaimed Alfred, "We didn't realize you were awake. It's just we got distracted by massive cuteness." He motioned over to Wy and Kyle, and Toris scratched his head, still very confused.

"Where..." began Toris as he looked around at all of the people around him and great butte before him, "... where am I? Who are you people?"

"We're just people," answered Gilbert, "People trying to survive in this scorched dustball of a world."

Toris tried standing up, but was too weak, and fell back down on his butt. He put his head between his hands and sulked.

"I... I'm still alive! I thought I was as good as dead!" he explained, head still in his hands, "But you... I... I owe you my life."

Kyle walked back to the group with his little daughter in toe, and took a good look at Toris.

"Mate, you look like you've just seen death. But so have we," said Kyle, "In fact, everyone here with us has seen death, in some way or another. So don't sulk around. If you want to live with us, you'll need to shrug your troubles off and start adding something to our group."

Toris looked straight into his eyes as he finished. "J-join? Join you?" he asked, almost dumbfounded. Alfred stepped forward in his direction.

"If you want to survive, you'll need to travel with other people, like us," explained Alfred, "If you don't want to be with us, that's fine, if you want to die like you almost just did."

Toris cupped a hand over his eyes for a moment. The memories of his past life rushed by in his mind, almost too fast for him to even tell what memories they were. He zoned out everyone and everything around him as one memory in particular came and haunted his mind...

* * *

...

"_Toris Laurinaitis, you have been deemed unfit for life among the civilized of this great city. You are hereby expelled into the wastelands, to wander the rest of your days. May God in Heaven have mercy on you."_

"_Wait! Just give me a moment to... say goodbye to her..."_

" _... Very well. You have a minute."_

"_Natalia... I..."_

_...  
_

* * *

"Hey! Jerkoff!" interrupted Gilbert, snapping Toris out of his trance, "Were you listening to us? What is your answer?"

"Answer?" Toris asked innocently.

"Yes, your answer to our question. Will you or will you not join us?"

Toris stared on at the three of them, and the odd little girl leaning on the tall green-eyed man's leg. He didn't have an answer. Just then, a large heavyset man pushed his way through the small crowd of people around them. His brown hair was tied back into long dreadlocks, and he had a huge claymore sword on his back, fit into a hilt, and a holstered gun on the right side of his waist.

"What is this all about?" he asked in a loud, deep voice. At that moment, his eyes met with Alfred's, and they stared each other down. After a few seconds, the large man looked away from Alfred and to Toris, and grinned a little.

"So, Jones, I see that you and your buddies there have taken on some extra weight again," he said with a mean grin. Toris stared at him, not sure what to think, and looked back at the three men who he guessed were the ones who found him.

Alfred, Gilbert, and Kyle all glared back at the large man, and Wy just looked back and forth between them.

"I hope you'll be able carry that weight this time. Unlike before. Need I remind you?" the man asked, hoping to get a rise out of them.

Alfred stood completely still, glaring evilly into the man's eyes. He looked at Toris for a second and then back at the man.

"No. There's no point in talking about the past, Machado. Besides, this one will carry his own weight, or die," answered Alfred, motioning to Toris. Toris just gulped and the large man, Machado, laughed heartily.

"Is that so?" he asked with a laugh still in his voice, "Well, that's good, because after our duel today, you won't even be able to carry your own weight, because you'll be dead."

The crowd of people around them all began whispering to each other, and Gilbert walked to Alfred to whisper something to him.

"Duel? Again? How many times..." Gilbert began to ask, but Alfred cut him off.

"Don't worry, Kyle said that there was a caravan with merchants and oil in the north. There is no time for a duel now, we need to prepare to raid that caravan. Even Machado here will understand," assured Alfred, as he turned to face Machado again.

"Change of plans, Machado," said Alfred, "While we were out scouting the surrounding area, we spotted a large caravan moving slowly across the desert. To have as many people as it does it must have tons of food. It also had several merchants with valuable goods, and even had a few cars. That means they have oil and gasoline" he explained further, much to Machado's chagrin.

"We need to prepare to raid it. The duel is off, for now," Alfred finished.

"You coward, you can't back out like that!" declared Machado angrily.

"Machado, you have a wife and child, right?" asked Alfred sternly. Machado suddenly became quiet.

"We have been running low on virtually all of our supplies," began Kyle, who was now standing next to Alfred, "This is a chance we can't pass up. If we're all going to survive, we need to take what we need, _now_. Your family will thank you later for not forcing them to go hungry again."

Alfred and Gilbert both smiled gratefully to Kyle, who nodded his head back at them. Wy just smiled widely, her amber eyes sparkling with admiration for her father. Machado just grumbled to himself and frowned disconcertingly.

"Shit, alright, alright," he conceded finally, "But we will have to settle our feud soon, Jones." Alfred just smiled and nodded with a devilish look.

Machado turned to leave, and the trio turned to face Toris again.

"Okay, so, about you," began Gilbert. But before he could continue, the loud noise of a gunshot cracked though the air. The four of them all look at each other, and Machado stopped in his tracks.

"That came from the south," declared Kyle.

"Let's go," commanded Gilbert, and the three of them ran to their dune buggies and zoomed off within seconds.

Machado let forth a sharp whistle, and huge, black horse galloped up to him. He patted it's nose and hopped on top of it without a saddle, and road off to the south, where his nemesis and his friends had gone. Toris blinked as he watched a dozen other men either riding on horseback or running on foot towards the south, carrying their rifles and bows and other weapons, even swords of their own. Wy cautiously walked up to him as he observed the horsemen.

"Don't worry, mister," she began, "My daddy and his friends will take care of whatever is going on. They are all really tough."

Toris just smiled and patted her on the head, and she smiled back. Without saying anything, he regained some of his strength and got up and began running to the south as well, to see what was going on.

"Hey, don't leave me alone!" Wy exclaimed, and she ran after him. Toris stopped and looked back at her.

"Alright, take my hand. I'll... uh... protect you, I guess. Just in case," Toris offered finally, extending his hand. Wy grinned widely and took it, and the pair ran off.

It wasn't long before they heard several more gunshots ringing through the valley. Toris stopped when he saw what looked like fifteen or so zombies making their way toward the settlement. Some lumbered slowly, others were as fast as a four-legged beast, and others really did run on all four of their limbs. In front of their charge stood Gilbert, Alfred, and Kyle in their dune buggies and dozens of horsemen, including the easily-spotted Machado.

More gunshots echoed out, but not from any of them. Toris turned around and saw over a hundred more zombies headed towards the encampment from the north. And he wasn't the only one who noticed. All three of the dune buggies turned around and zoomed by Toris and Wy, and behind them came several of the horsemen and footmen who followed them.

Toris looked back to the few horsemen who were left to take care of the first dozen zombies, and saw Machado riding out towards them by himself.

"Is he crazy?" asked Toris out loud, "Charging in like that! They'll surround him in no time!"

But as he said this, Machado unsheathed his claymore and charged at two of them, cutting off both of their heads in one swing as his horse gallantly galloped past them.

"Two down, thirteen more to go," muttered Machado to himself as his horse galloped around in a circle, turning around and charging towards another one. The zombie, who lumbered slowly before, suddenly moved extremely quickly, like a cat, and jumped up towards Machado as he rode past him and swung his claymore at his neck.

The zombie actually shifted his position in mid-air, and avoided the sword. He grabbed on to the side of the horse, digging his long nails and fingers into the horse's skin in order to hold on. Crying out in pain, the horse slowed and started kicking and stomping, throwing Machado off balance and off the horse. He quickly regained his stance, however, and the zombie let the horse go, and charged extremely quickly at the man. Machado held his sword in front of him until the moment before the zombie could touch him, and plunged the tip forward into the zombies torso.

Using his great strength, Machado freed his sword from the torso by cutting through it, ripping it open as he pulled it from the left side. The zombie stopped for only a second, but that was all he needed. Mercilessly, he swung the claymore through the zombie's neck, and turned to face another two that were headed for him. As they came at him, his horse came galloping to his rescue, charging into one of the zombies and stomping it into the ground.

The second zombie swung his deformed, claw-like right hand at Machado, but he ducked, and cut off the zombie's legs from the knees down. When the zombie fell to the ground, Machado raised his sword and cut of his head as well.

His horse came back to his side, and the zombie that was trampled under the horse's hooves attempted to stand back up. As he was doing this, Machado took out his handgun from the holster and shot him in the forehead, and he fell to the ground. Turning to his left and then his right, Machado shot two more zombies, dead on their foreheads, and they fell.

"Eight more, then we can join the others," said Machado to his horse as he got back on him. The few other horsemen finally charged in, and together they finished off the remaining zombies.

Toris and Wy stood there watching the whole time, in awe of his prowess in battle. Just then, a series of explosions rumbled through the area. Toris, Wy, and Machado and his men turned to the north and saw flames shooting up in the air, just north of their encampment. Toris's eyes widened as several gunshots rung out immediately after, and Wy put her hands over her ears to escape the terribly loud noise.

Machado and his men quickly rode up to Toris and Wy.

"What the hell are you doing just standing there? With a little girl? I thought you were going to carry your own weight," yelled Machado angrily.

"I... uh... just take me to the others. I'll help you fight," Toris answered, trying to look confident. But inside, he was scared out of his mind at the prospect of facing even more of those things. Machado eyed him up and down, and grunted.

"Very well. You can ride with me," and with that, he grabbed Toris's arm and swung him up on the horse behind him. Another horseman took Wy and pulled her up on top of his horse.

"Sadik!" exclaimed the little girl brightly, and the man, Sadik Adnan, simply smiled at her and nodded at Machado. Machado looked back at Toris.

"Any weapons?" he asked quietly.

"Back at the encampment, where you first saw me. I have all of my things, including my weapons, there," answered Toris grimly, still unsure of himself.

"By now we'll have to fight through zombies to get to them!" Machado roared, "Just stick with me. If we get a chance to get your weapons, we'll take it. But if we don't, just stay put. I'll have to carry your weight for now."

"Hey, before we... do this. Has this ever happened before? I mean... during the day?" asked Toris suddenly.

Machado looked up at the bright, hot sun, and back down. "No. Never in broad daylight. The desert is usually too hot for the zombies. It makes them decompose even more then they already have."

"So why now?" asked Sadik, listening to their conversation.

"I don't know..." answered Machado bluntly, "But we don't have time to think about this! Shit, let's get over there now!"

With that, he charged off to the battle ahead of Sadik, Wy, and the others, who soon followed closely behind.

* * *

Meanwhile, as Toris and Machado made their way back north, the rest of the men and women at the encampment were busy fighting off the majority of the zombies. Perched on top of a pile of boulders, Alfred lay with his now rare 7.62x51mm M40 sniper rifle, probably one of the last of it's kind, laying in his grasp. From his viewpoint, he picked off several of the zombies as they charged into the ill-prepared encampment, slaughtering several horsemen and footmen alike.

It was only minutes after placing the emergency row dynamite in place, on the outskirts of the encampment, and setting it off as the zombies approached over it. Though the resulting explosions took out several of the zombies, there were at least sixty or seventy that survived and made it into the encampment. And now, the ground was soaking in the blood of both the zombies, warriors, and innocent women and children.

Alfred aimed and picked off another one with ease, aiming for the head. He was an expert marksman, a prodigy even. But that wasn't enough to protect all of those who had already died.

"Maryjane," said Alfred to his sniper rifle, "don't fail me now."

Kyle and Gilbert were in the thick of it, Kyle with his F88 Austeyr assault rifle, and Gilbert with his sword and shield.

"I can't believe you still use a sword and shield, Gil," chided Kyle as he fired at a group of five zombies, killing them all. Gilbert snorted.

"The truly awesome warrior doesn't need guns," replied Gilbert as he slammed his large knightly shield into a zombie, forcing it down to the ground, "but of-course, I still have one," he finished, as he pulled out a Glock handgun, shooting the zombie in the forehead. Kyle observed Gil's handgun, and scoffed.

"That little thing isn't anything compared to-"

Before he could finish, a zombie jumped from a nearby boulder and tackled him to the ground. It then swiped it's claws into his chest, and tried biting down into his face. Luckily, Gilbert noticed in time and threw his sword into the side of the zombie's torso, paralyzing it temporarily. When it froze up for only a few seconds, Kyle took his rifle and blew it's brains out, literally.

As Gilbert went to help him clean his wounds and help him up, two zombies charged straight at him, without his sword. He blocked their attacks with his shield, but tripped as he walked backwards and fell. As the zombies approached, a bullet suddenly flew through both of their heads as they stood shoulder-to-shoulder, and they fell dead.

Gilbert and Kyle look to their left, the direction the bullet came from, and saw Alfred and his sniper rifle, which he called "Maryjane," aimed in their direction.

"Heh, two birds with one stone," said Gilbert as he helped Kyle up, "I'd expect nothing less from Al."

As the battle ensured, the zombies soon outnumbered the able-bodied men and women who were able to fight back. In the middle of the encampment lay the spear and incomplete crossbow that belonged to Toris, and it was there that a woman and her son tripped and fell while running from the ensuring undead. She picked up the spear, and jammed it into the zombie's face, piercing threw to it's brain and killing it.

"Mamma! Look!" cried her little boy, "Daddy's coming!" He pointed to the south, and she followed his finger to her husband, Machado, riding toward them on his great black steed, followed in toe by Sadik and others. As he rode to her, he and his men cut down a few more zombies with their swords.

She was so close, now. Machado grinned slightly, relieved to see that she was alive. But her spear was stuck in the slain zombie's skull, and she couldn't pull it out as three more surrounded and attacked her and her son.

"NO!" roared Machado as he watched the zombies pounce on them and beat them with their fists and cut into them with their claws. His wife valiantly tried to kick them off of their son, but as she did, another of them opened it's huge, monstrous mouth, and bit into her neck, biting out the majority of it's flesh. Blood shot out everywhere, covering their son and the zombies in it.

"KAREL!" shouted Machado, before his horse was suddenly knocked down by a massive, inhumanly large undead man. Machado and Toris fell just inches away from being trampled by Sadik's horse, who maneuvered away skillfully and towards his wife and child.

"MOMMY!" screamed the boy, before he himself was literally torn apart by the demonic undead. As this happened, Sadik and a few other men came and fought off the zombies, either shooting them in the head or cutting the heads off. The blood flew into little Wy's face as Sadik cut off one of their heads, and she began to cry.

Machado and Toris stood up and faced the extremely large and strong zombie that was able to knock his horse down. It stood over eight feet tall, and was extremely, inhumanly muscular. Toris had remembered seeing such a large one only once before, and figured that it must be the leader, which he promptly began to tell Machado.

"Machado! I think this one may be the leader. If we kill him, it may discourage the others from attacking!"

But Machado did not answer. Tears rolled down his face, thinking of his brutally murdered family. He drew his revolver and began shooting into the monstrous undead staring them down. The bullets pierced into his body easily, and blood flung out of the penetrations, but the zombie only became filled with an unholy rage, and charged liked a wild bull.

Machado emptied his handgun into the beast, but the bullets didn't even slow him down. He approached Machado's arm-length, and Machado drew his sword and swung down with it as hard and as fast as he could, putting all of his anger and strength into the swing.

Toris stood there, motionless. He urinated on himself, but barely noticed. His fear had seized him completely, and he couldn't move or think. He watched Machado's sword cut down into the giant's shoulder. He watched the giant not even flinch as he proceeded to grip Machado's neck with his gigantic right hand. And he watched as the beast picked him up, threw him around like a ragdoll, and beat him against the ground several times like a child would do to their small toy. Machado lost grip of his claymore, and was helpless being beaten to death by the powerful foe.

But Toris couldn't get himself to move, not even to help, not even to run away. The blood-curdling screams of the people being slaughtered and eaten alive were suddenly drowned out. The unholy battle-cries of the undead beasts ceased. But suddenly, he could move again. He didn't understand why, but now he could run away, away from the zombies that haunted him, and away from humankind, which betrayed him. He could survive if he just ran away. The zombies were winning. It wouldn't do any good to fight. He must survive!

So then why did he find himself running toward the great giant before him? Why did he find himself trying to rescue a man he owed nothing to? He didn't have time to wonder why he was doing what he was doing. He charged and pushed into the zombie with all of his might and speed, without any weapons, and knocked it off balance.

As it stumbled, the zombie let out an ear-splitting, primal scream that pierced into the eardrums of every living creature in a quarter-mile radius, alerting Gilbert, Kyle, and Alfred to the location. Toris fell to the ground in pain, bleeding from his ears. He cupped his hands over them and looked up at the terrifying monster as it finished it's roar. It stared into Toris's eyes, and the deep primal fear seized him again. But this time, he didn't freeze up, nor did he gain the will to run away. He had the will to kill. Like that night alone in the desert weeks ago. Like that time in the city-state. The killer instinct was back, and this time it was so strong, that he _had_ to kill. He needed to kill something or go crazy. So he figured, at that moment, why not the spawn of evil in front of him?

Immediately, he grabbed the claymore from the ground as the beast dropped Machado and lunged toward him. Their eyes stayed locked onto each other the whole time, animalistic rage inside of the giant's eyes, and cunning, almost evil, deadliness in Toris's.

As the giant came upon him, Toris thrust the sword up through the great undead's chin, piercing straight through into it's skull and brain, and out the other end of the head. The beast fell on him and died, crushing him under his weight.

Machado lay there, beaten to a bloody pulp, but he could still barely see what had just happened. At that moment, all of the remaining zombies stopped fighting and killing. They stood there for a few moments, completely still, hanging their heads down.

"What the fuck is this? They all just... stopped," observed a worn-out Gilbert.

"... That screech from earlier, the one that hurt us and caused our ears to bleed. Maybe that has something to do with it," Kyle theorized. Alfred approached them at that moment, and motioned toward the center of the encampment.

"I saw it from my perch. That lone man we saved earlier... he..." began Alfred, "He and Jaun Machado... they killed this huge zombie, and all the zombies stopped fighting then. This was the same zombie that let loose that terrible scream, that one that actually hurt us. It got a few of the men who were fighting killed."

Kyle and Gilbert looked at each other and then back and him. "Alright," said Kyle, cleaning his wounds, "lets go."

As the trio ran there, the zombies all fell over, dead. It was as if the giant one really was their leader, but why did they all die when it did? And why were they suddenly able to attack in the broad daylight? During midday, of all times? They would have to try and come up with answers later.

As they approached the scene, they saw Machado pushing the dead giant off of Toris, who let out a gasp of breath.

"Oh god... I couldn't breath..." Toris panted as he noticed the other three approaching. Sadik, holding Wy close to him, also approached and leaned next to Machado, who was kneeling on the ground.

"Sir, your family..." he motioned to the beaten and half-eaten corpses of Machado's wife and son.

Machado solemnly got up and lumbered to them, and broke down upon reaching them, weeping bitterly.

Alfred and Sadik helped Toris up, and the five of them looked on at the devastated people that they were supposed to protect. Over a third of all the people in the encampment were killed, and the ground was red with their blood. The corpses of several men, women, and children were littered around, half eaten and drained of so much of their blood.

Wy tugged on her father's bloodstained shirt, sniffling. He burst into tears upon seeing her, not knowing where she was before, and picked her up and cradled her, and she cried into his shoulder.

"We've lost too much... and so suddenly..." said Alfred, "... if we don't do something soon, the rest of us will die. The undead ate some of our stored food, and infected it. We need to do something!" His hands changed to fists, and Gilbert and Sadik looked at each other. Toris stepped forward.

"You're right... we need to survive," he began. The others looked at him questioningly. "We need to find that caravan. And take what we need. We must survive!" Kyle sighed at him.

"He's right. That's our only hope now, since our food supply is infected. And we need to do it soon, before we lose track of them," explained Kyle. The others all slowly nodded.

"So," Gilbert began asking, "does that mean you're with us, then, mister..."

"Laurinaitis. Toris Laurinaitis. And yes, I'm with you. And I promise to take care of myself; to carry my own weight, as you say," answered Toris with more confidence than he had had in long time.

"Indeed," said Sadik, "You're gonna carry that weight, or die. Not necessarily by our hands, but by the hands of nature. It is the natural law of the world."

The others all nodded solemnly, and without saying or doing anything else, immediately began preparing for their upcoming raid against the caravan. They didn't have time for anything else now. They had to survive.

* * *

**Author's Notes:**

Alright, the first chapter of the story. I hope you all enjoy it. Most of the chapters won't be this long, more like half this length or a little more.

Constructive criticism is always welcome. :)

Now then, as you can see, this is an AU Hetalia, so all of the characters all referred to by their human names, as in this AU they are not countries, but just humans. However, Himaruya hasn't given some his characters official human names yet, so I had to improvise with those.

Here is a list of all of the characters in this chapter, and the countries they represent in the actual Hetalia and most fanfics:

Toris Laurinaitis - Lithuania

Alfred F. Jones – America

Gilbert Beilschmidt – Prussia

Kyle Walters – Australia

Jaun Machado – Cuba (mostly referred to as Machado in this chapter)

Sadik Adnan – Turkey

Wy – Wy (more like a nickname in this story, I'll come up with her real name soon)


End file.
